


We're at War

by hallowedmaiden



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21562519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallowedmaiden/pseuds/hallowedmaiden
Summary: Elizabeth isn't sure what to be ruffled about more, her newly appointed King status, or being the object of Captain Jack Sparrow's affection. Set in AWE. Sparrabeth. M for future scenes.
Relationships: Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann
Comments: 14
Kudos: 139





	1. We're at War

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cleodora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cleodora/gifts).



> This is a prompt given to me by Cleodora. I was to write a Sparrabeth scene directly following the moment when her voted her in as King. As you can see, it turned into more than one chapter. Part II shall be up soon.

" _Elizabeth Swann."_

She stood there, tapping the wood grain on the table with her fingertips, following the curving lines and swirls as though they would help her unravel the knot of thoughts tangling themselves up with each second that passed.

" _What?"_

His eyes had met her eyes, pinning her down with a ferocity that had made her shiver, but she had found no answers in those shielded depths. No explanation for why he, the king of pirates, had taken the crown off his head to place it on her own.

" _At dawn, we're at war."_

The rest of them would be at war, but she had been at war ever since the blasted pirate had saved her life. At war with herself, at war with her past, at war with her future, and at war with _him_.

Of those wars, there was only one that she liked.

Only, she had _thought_ that she had achieved a terrible victory by... _what she did_...she had thought she had won.

She hadn't wanted there to be a winner, she hadn't wanted it to be _over_. And now, with one utterance of her name, she had hope that it wasn't. Clashing verbal swords, bullet glances, and smoky silences was far too fun to extinguish it now.

Each word they said to each other was a calculated blow, one aimed at either the head or the heart...and sometimes both.

" _I always knew you were a good man."_

That one had been both, but if she were to admit it to herself, it had come from _her_ heart more than anything. She really did think he was a good man. She just wished she would have realized it before she...but he _did_ leave you there, she thought…

He came back. She had meant to ask him about that. Perhaps it would have helped had she asked him before she…

It would have helped if she had done _anything_ to prevent her from doing what she did.

"I've seen that look before, Elizabeth."

It took her a second to realize that someone was actually speaking to her. To her left stood Gibbs, staring at her like he had just had an epiphany.

"Look? What look?"

He chuckled and waved his finger between her eyes. "Like your mind is running in eight different directions."

The wood chipped when she dug her fingernails into it. She sighed. "I have eight problems that are all running in the same direction." She paused to look around. "But I don't know which direction that is, actually."

Gibbs chuckled again. He did that a lot. "He probably ran away to his old bedroom. Whenever he isn't forced to be here, he's usually there."

"Am I that transparent?"

"About Jack? Aye, but don't feel bad. Hard to hide, that is."

She didn't have to ask what _that_ was. "Mr. Gibbs...do you think-"

"-that he will forgive you? I'll wager he already has, but it might take some coaxing to get him to admit it."

"And-"

Gibbs made a noise like he was done with her babbling. "Look, Elizabeth, we can't change the past. If we could, some pirates would be a lot richer and some pirates would be a lot more dead. All you can do is learn from it."

She stared at him, wondering if he meant for her to figure out what she was supposed to have learned within the minute.

_You learned what you can't live without._

"Barbossa would have never been Captain of the Pearl."

The older man snorted. "Well if you ask Jack, Barbossa never _was_ the Captain of the Pearl. At least, not really."

"It does suit Jack far more. And he apparently thought that being king suited me more…"

"Jack never wanted it. He always said he would 'rather fuck a corpse over having to spend night and day studying a crusty old book'".

The man didn't even give her time to process that. "I think you'll do a fine job. While Jack may not want the job, he would never give it to someone whom he felt was unfit for it, and if my intuition is correct...at least, what little I have being a man, I would wager that he finds you rather fit for other things too."

She thought for a moment. "I _am_ better than a corpse."

But then she really considered what he said. "Wait...you think Jack-"

"Aye, I do. Otherwise you wouldn't be standing here... _alive_."

With that, he winked at her and turned away to go find rum, probably, leaving her to contemplate the fact that she was both King of the Pirates and the object of Jack's affection.

She wasn't sure which one was more terrifying.


	2. Black and Red

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II :)

The room opened up to the left of the door, but the bed sat near the middle. It was dimly lit, and handsomely furnished, most likely from the spoils of other ships. A velvet blanket lay draped across the bed, and bookshelves lined the back wall, filled with big books, small books, scrolls, journals, and various other trinkets.

But the object that drew her attention was the large black ornate chest at the foot of the bed, and it did so because there was currently a pirate bent over it, rifling about its contents.

Watching him for a moment, she noted the absence of his hat, his boots, his coat, and his sword. In fact, he was dressed in entirely different clothes, a fascinating sight for a man who seemed to not understand that other clothing even existed.

His shirt was a dark wine red, and his breeches were an inky black...of course the trusty old red bandana still adorned his head, but she rather liked the new choices. They suited him.

Leaning against the door frame, she let him rummage for a few seconds longer. "So...you would rather _fuck_ a corpse over studying the Codex...excuse me, the _crusty old book_?"

His rummaging intensified, then slowed, then stopped altogether. His shoulders slumped in apparent submission and she could hear his fingers tapping in annoyance against the inside of the chest. "Gibbs' memory isn't completely shot then apparently."

"What are you looking for?" she asked, not really expecting an honest answer. He raised his head and looked around, as though trying to find an escape route. It brought a little smile to her face.

"Something that isn't in here."

Pushing off the door frame and taking a few steps into the room, she decided to test her luck. "And is the _something_ something that I am not privy to?"

He shot her a glance over his shoulder. "No, but what I was going to do with it, you're not privy to."

_That_ raised her eyebrow. "What is it, a bottle of oil and an old shirt?"

The blush spread across her face before he had the chance to fully turn around. When he was facing her, the look on his face only intensified the heat spreading across hers.

It was positively _wolfish_.

"Who said you wouldn't be privy to that?"

Her voice box packed up and vacationed for the next forty-five seconds.

"Besides, where would a proper lady such as yourself learn of what a man does with a bottle of oil and an old shirt?"

_Gods_.

She managed to squeak out a "places" in response before desperately trying to find something to change the subject.

And that _something_ was apparently his crotch, because that is where her eyes landed. "You're wearing different clothes."

His gaze jerked downward, as though his change in attire was a surprise to him too. "Wow, fancy that. Do you object?"

"Well, no-"

"-Would you rather me not wear any?"

_God damnit._

"N-no, you can keep your clothes on, thank you."

The laugh that had been trapped finally tumbled out of his mouth, a velvety musical noise. "If you say so." Pause. "What does my newly appointed King require of me?"

_Think of something_.

"I was hoping we could talk about-"

"-No."

Her mouth snapped shut, and she stared at him incredulously. "Captain Sparrow, I am aware that I was just given my new title an hour ago, but I don't think the freshness of it makes me any less able to demand things-

The chest slammed shut, interrupting her. "Are you aware that if the Brethren were to be made aware of the fact that you murdered me, your _new_ King title would be stripped from you immediately? Furthermore, you would never be allowed to step foot inside Shipwreck Cove again."

His face wasn't angry, but the dark undertones in his voice betrayed the hidden emotion.

_Hurt_.

"Oh."

"Oh."

That was the second time he had mocked her with that word.

Changing the subject for the second time that evening, she focused on the other reason she had come. "You...you sleep...err, slept here?"

It worked. His face arranged itself back into that playful damnable expression. "Aye. I was planning on sleeping in here in a little bit. At dawn, we're at war, after all."

Mentally slapping away the images of her sleeping _with_ him, she dared to broach the subject again. "You...voted for me despite what I...did. Why?"

He seemed to think for a moment. "Because, the result of your actions is irrelevant when considering the motivation for those actions. You're willing to do whatever is necessary, love, and we need a person like that."

_Love_.

_Did she dare?_

Apparently her legs thought so, because they were already carrying her over to the bed, then climbing up onto the bed, all while his dark eyes followed her with fascination.

Once she was firmly seated cross-legged on the velvet blanket, she raised her eyes to his again. "I see."

He made a noise and turned away to search for whatever it was that he had been looking for.

"May I ask you a question?"

"Darling, you're the King here," he answered to the books he was looking through.

"Right, sorry...do...have you, um...will you forgive me?"

Turning halfway to peer at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes, "Would you be allowed to sit on my bed if I hadn't?"

"But you _just said_ -"

"-that it's _my bed_."

The meaning was made clear. She had no jurisdiction when it came to his personal property.

"What are you looking for?" she snapped back out of pure spite.

"Something."

Crossing the room in a hurry, he snatched a book off the shelf and yanked it open. Out fell a pitch black scarf.

"A...bandana?"

"That qualifies as something, doesn't it?"

He paused with the cloth clutched in his hand, looked up to gaze at her, then back down to the bandana, then back at her.

Just as she raised her eyebrow again, he made a huffing noise and mumbled something that sounded like "bugger it".

Then, with a twitch of his head and a flash of "so be it" across his face, he reached behind his head and fiddled with the knot of his current bandana. After what seemed like an hour, he finally got it untied and pulled it away.

Suddenly she wished she could stare at his crotch again.

_Yes, he has a forehead. What, did you expect nothing to be there? Did you expect spiders to come out?_

She was still staring all throughout the replacement of the new black bandana.

"Are you done?"

Blink. "What?"

"I realize that you have never seen a human forehead before, but I don't think they are _that_ fascinating."

"Why didn't you want to take it off in front of me?"

"What?"

_Oh, so it's going to be like that._

"You hesitated to take it off earlier."

Glaring at her, his jaw worked in an attempt to get out of answering.

_The black one does look nice_.

He looked down at the wadded up bundle of red in his left hand, then back at her, and then the most curious thing happened.

A softness flooded his eyes, and his lips quirked in not a _smirk_ , but a little smile.

"C'mere love."

Hesitating for only a moment, she slowly slid off the bed, and came to a stop in front of him. He circled around to stand behind her, and she gulped when she felt his lips brush against her ear. "Let me know if it pulls. I'll tie it again."

"Let you know if _what_ p-"

But she had her answer when the worn faded cloth was laid across her forehead.

_Was he really_ -

Yes, he really was, and she still barely believed it as he went to work tying the knot. After a few moments of her holding her breath and counting backwards from ten, he spoke next to her ear again.

"Comfortable?"

_Yes, quite with you this close-_

_Elizabeth, he means the bloody bandana._

"Oh! Yes, aye, it's nice. It feels nice."

"There is a mirror right over there on the shelf. Take a look."

Forcing her legs to move, she went to the mirror and picked it up.

Her face, neatly adorned with Captain Jack Sparrow's bandana, stared back at her from the dusty surface.

_Gods_.


End file.
